Beneath the Bruises
by Laurentine
Summary: Rorschach has been strayed away from women forever, thanks to his neglective mother. So once he saves a girl from a couple of wretched scum he is only reminded by his past demons.She wants no more then to save him. Rorschach/OC .A friendship not a romance
1. Introduction

_Authors note: This is only the introduction of the fanfiction, and this story will probably only stretch to 4 parts anyways. :] Enjoy. The next update of the story will be tomorrow._

* * *

Raindrops scattered across the pavement, leaving dark transparent specks instead of crimson ones. The sky was nothing but a pit of darkness and smoke, clouds rolling in like gray and white ghosts. The crunching of gravel was the only real noise heard in the alley ways, as Walter Kovacs, no..._Rorschach_ came trotting through with his hands tucked tightly into his coat pockets. He didn't show his face, he didn't approve of it. Only a white mask, a bag that was pulled over his red hair and pale freckled face, was his real face. He remembered acquiring this fabric when he was a garment worker after dropping out of High School. He put together a dress made by Mr. Manhattan that consisted of black and white liquids that shifted and squirmed into vague forms of a Rorschach test. The woman he made it for turned the dress down but he instantly cut it into a smaller strip and stitched it into a new face. Perfection, he thought.

The world around him moved but didn't move with him. He was alone; he didn't find anything wrong with being alone neither. Filthy whores reached out to him, brushing his hunched shoulders with their fingertips as he walked by. How many men have those hands touched? Their existence stung him, but he paid no mind. He was a _whoreson_, after all. He could vaguely see his mother giggling while entertaining another man, and on occasion he would ask her if she was hurt. She'd beat him. But that was in the past and that was too long ago for it to matter now. He lived in this underworld full of bitter heathens and raging Neanderthals. But he believed in retribution, and that the whole world was going to pay the price. _No one makes it out alive._

In full value he could see the world a good place if it weren't layered in slime and deceit. His feet continued to mark the sidewalks with rain water, as he carried on towards an open alleyway. A blood curdling scream whistled through the smoke thickened air and he stopped in his tracks.

_Whoever she is, she probably deserves it,_ He hunched his shoulders again and carried on until the scream echoed through his latex mask and he couldn't resist the urge to turn his head towards the alleyway_. Maybe she doesn't_.

He then bolted. His feet were silent yet quick and his hands had bounced out of his pockets, the coat rippling behind him.

The Alleyway was damp and dark, the moon casting it in black and white. He could hear grunts and laughter and a choked scream, the filthy scum probably beating the woman to a bloody pulp_. Damn it_, Rorschach's lips tightened in a fine line beneath the latex, and he immediately zoned in on a man kicking a female in the ribcage against the bricked wall. He was nothing but a savage, an animal. Rorschach was going to put the dog down. As quick as a bullet he plummeted into the filthy monster and knocked the air right out of him. He slipped several feet to the ground, teeth flying and bones cracking. Another mugger came up behind Rorschach with a switchblade but Rorschach was too quick. He elbowed him square in the jaw then spun around and kicked him to the concrete, not even bothering to stop until blood was smeared along the contours of the alley and the screaming had ceased to exist.

"Only two," Rorschach was disappointed, "I only mopped up some of the waste." The woman was whimpering on the floor, her body shivering and shaking about. Rorschach turned to face her and kneeled down for a split second to take it all in. She had a long pale body but it was folded in on itself like a wad of miswritten paper. Her face was swollen and battered, and she was probably once beautiful but now she only looked defeated. Tears were trailing down her bruised cheeks and dribbling off her full and cut lips. She wore a corporate outfit, or most of it. The rest of it was strewn along the alley. She didn't have the vibe of a whore, but the vibe of an innocent being victimized.

_May as well put her out of her misery like an injured race horse. _Rorschach was just about to do so until she cried out and reached for him like a drunken lunatic, her fingers going for his own. He leaned away from her and let out a minor "Hurrm.." She could use some healing. He didn't say a word, just gathered her up into his arms and began his long walk ...to anywhere but there.


	2. Left For Dead

_Authors note: I've stuck to the original comic/graphic novel so if you're pissed with any outcomes, oh-freakin-well. _

_To a few comments I've received: Thank you, and I hope you don't mind how damn short this chapter is. I'm just easing myself into the story._

_And to Artemis: Twilight sucks (no offence to twilight fans, but it isn't my cup-o-tea) & you haven't given my fanfic a chance. _

* * *

Rorschach didn't bother tucking the bitch to sleep, he just tossed her limp body onto a cot splayed on the wooden floor of an abandoned house and turned away. She whimpered some more, something she obviously did a lot, that filthy whore. He could remember vaguely of the times he heard his mother behind a doorway, screams echoing against the door, but she wasn't in pain. Those memories just churned the acid in his stomach traumatically. He may as well have left this strange creature at a hospital, but he didn't trust hospitals either. They were as sickening as the feds.

_I'll leave her here. The nights young, and she is only wasting my time._ He turned to leave and she reached her massacred hands out and screamed "wait". He didn't.

- -

Rorschach held a missing sign in his gloves hands, his insides twisting as the memories of something long passed gone, came corroding into his mind like a feral demon.

_A little girl… not another missing little girl. _

It was so long ago but he could still see the grin displayed on the man's disgusting face as he admitted his kidnapping of the child. Of his killing of the child. Feeding her to the dogs like she was some edible chew toy bought from the market. He could remember picturing her before hand, her tiny body cowering in fear, her limbs covered in her own blood, imagining her scarred for the remainder of her life. It reminded him of his own childhood.

_Her name was Blaire Roche._

He wanted to destroy the man, slaughter him. Those mongrels just down below in the urine pit weren't even going to be enough for him to take his anger out, but he bashed them straight through the windows after he axed their bodies, splitting their heads open and letting their skulls crack under his shoes.

_The look on the bastards face wasn't enough. That bastards name was Gerald Grice. He's damned in the pits of hell, the flames better be licking the remainder of his skin off. _

_No, charring him to the fucking marrow. _

Rorschach had immediately lifted the dumbfounded little shit off the floor and pushed him against the wall, handcuffing one of his wrists to a pipe, popping out of the paint peeling wall. The building was rotting with sewage, the walls covered in cracks and blemishes. The man tugged at the chain, crying and yelling in anger. This didn't stop Rorschach from dousing the floors with gasoline and tossing a saw in front of the monster. The man sawed at the chains, Rorschach relishing the peak of hysteria spreading across his ugly face.

"Shouldn't bother trying to saw through handcuffs, never make it in time." Yes he wanted the animal to saw through his own wrist. But he didn't and he was petrified. _That child suffered, damn to hell._

He had dropped several burning matches from his fingers, and that was the last of him. The building had gone up into flickering flames; smoke breaking into the sky like Satan was throwing a party.

_Rorschach was born._

Now he was staring at the parchment in his hands, the corners wet and rolling back, and stared at it for more than 4 minutes. It felt as if he needed to solve this missing child case. Her name was Annie Dolin. She looked well under 10 years old, and had thick blonde curls and a chubby face. She had a crooked smile, like she was forced into it.

_Hurm._

- -

Rorschach walked the streets some more, the missing sheet tucked into one of his pockets, his fedora dipping as he looked down the whole way to the bar. This would only be one of the stops he'd make, he wasn't sure of it, but he knew it by chance. This was a mission sizzled in the middle of déjà vu.

He entered the bar and instantly stopped at the doorway, the customers inside watching him with terror easily depicted in their cesspool irises.

Rorschach's journal.

_I teared through the palms of these treacherous creatures, breaking beer bottles onto their thick skulls and breaking noses just to get answers. I only emerged guttural sobs, breaking these damned creatures pride like I would break their fingers into bone shavings. _

_Only one submerged from the grime and the lies, his face just an ugly drawing._

_I won't remember it._

_I don't. _

_Whispers of pathetic protest._

_Declination and acting. _

_The mans wrist was broken under my heel._

_He told me of a place where I could find a Martin Bannister. _

_Somewhere in this hellhole city, just a few blocks away._

_The Dolin child was said to be snatched up into this Bannister's arms while at a carnival._

_I wonder how long it took for the damned family to even notice her disappearance. _

_Maybe an hour._

_Maybe two. _

_The clock was ticking and she was already driven off to her demise._

_Her face._

_Her blood smeared face, her crimson drenched curls._

_She was found in a ditch only 12 miles from the bar, no clothing, torn up like she was overused. _

_She was rotting with the rest of this city._

_Furious._

_Sick._

_I've lost my chance of redemption. _

_This would be my second time losing a little girl to a sickened pervert. And in the findings of her, I could see the frowns breaking on the faces of the FBI who had given up on the case, like blistering cowards. _

_Damn them._

_Putrid filth._

_I'm not done looking for Martin Bannister._

- - -

Jamie Owen was in shock, her ligaments twisting inside of her skin, her hands blistering and the pain consuming her whole. She cried, burying her face into her battered palms, the usual creases not even there anymore. Her arms and hands were almost skinned raw; the men hitting her once or twice maybe even three times against the bricks of the wall.

_So much for a savior. That heartless man left me here. He destroyed the men that were on me, but didn't even call the paramedics like a real human being would, _She was furious and her breathing was broken like a cracked record going off beat , _Damn it, Damn it , Damn it. It's so cold, and I'm all alone!_

She could only see spinning visuals of the masked man who had saved her. Half-way saved her anyways. She knew who he was though. He was dangerous, a prime time vigilante that's slaughtered many people beforehand.

_God, he makes me so sick. What an asshole. He left me here. _

She bent her body again, trying to break free from the pain, an agonized cry escaping her cracked lips. She was so thirsty, and she needed pharmaceuticals and fast. Though her palms were undergoing some traumatic stress she attempted to push herself off the thin and rough mattress anyway. Blood rushed through her veins, directing itself to the pads of her hands, making her eyes burn with tears.

_Aw, shit. This is not going to work. _

She collapsed into a ball again, pulling her bruises knees to her chest and closing her swollen eyes. She could barely see through them anyways, and that may as well have been a good thing. She didn't want to see a thing anymore; she was hurting all over, probably going to vomit up all of her stomach fluids at the moment.

All she needed to do was sleep it off as long as possible. Suck it up and not complain about water or food or temperature. She could only fantasize about the vigilante with several blades spiking his throat. _If only_.

_Whatever helps you sleep at night Jamie. Whatever the hell helps you._


	3. Who Am I?

_Authors note: Once again, I respect those with creative critism. I have kept what you've said to mind and I've tune it up a bit. I should really stop slacking off and really get in motion with this fan fiction before it's too late. _

* * *

Jamie's eyes snapped open. Well, as open as she could get them. Her body was of course, still sore and undergoing some severe aftermath scabbing. Her body was just itchy as it knit itself together again. She groaned miserably but was only thankful the cramping had stopped in her stomach and she could possibly move under the harsh circumstances.

Every thought was flooding her mind at once. She remembered walking home from the office; she was a newspaper Reporter for the _Times._ Then she stopped at Joe's for a quick cup of hot cocoa, and just minding her own business while walking the streets of Brooklyn Manhattan. It only took her eyes to blink once, for her to be wrung by the wrists and kicked straight into the pavement. God, it hurt so much. Much worse then it was hurting now.

She touched her face at the thought, brushing her nose with her raw fingers. Yeah, it was broken; totally bent in a different direction. She took a deep breath but the blood rush and flaming pain only pushed her to inhale and exhale from her mouth.

"Damn it." She rolled up onto her back and sat up. She had some blue and black bruising up her shins and knees; she had been shoved to the ground countless times, lucky her knee caps were still intact if not her clothes.

Now, she just needed to navigate where she was; where the hell was she exactly? She shifted in the cot and got to her feet, tilting a bit due to her sudden sea legs. She could remember the masked vigilante and how much anger she held out towards him.

"Oh god…" She felt absolutely sick, like her insides were shriveled up, and her DNA was bending in different directions. Maybe getting up was the last thing she needed to do.

_Oh God, Oh God._

She leaned over the cot and threw up her stomach.

- - -

Rorschach sat in the wooden chair, his head tilted forward and the fedora on his lap. The apartment room was vacant, empty of all furniture except for a few chairs and a broken coffee table. The carpet was ripped bare on the left side of the room, the rest of it stained and hideous. He was so damn tired, daytime spewing in through the cracks of the windows and the foul smell of the world still not subsiding. His eyelids fluttered; he hated sleeping. He didn't care if it was healthy, he just didn't have enough hours. He pulled the mask off and put it on his lap as well, the world shifting with his grogginess.

Rorschach's Journal

_Removed mask._

_No corpses piled in the dumpsters._

_Rare._

_No rendered babies on a doorstep._

_Very rare._

_Can't find Bannister yet._

_As expected._

_The world is on its last breath._

_Waiting until it finally exhales all its lies and sins. _

_Put Annie in a body bag and left her on the FBI'S doorstep._

_Left a note._

_Just a scratched symbol of mine._

.][.

_Dan expected me._

_There are very little good friends._

_Never had a good friend._

_Only Dan._

_The Watchmen._

_Not expecting much._

_Expectations are only for hardworking misfits with no backbone._

_There isn't a damn care in the world._

_The world has no real savior._

_Trying._

_Only one person to collect all the waste._

_Putting liars, murderer's, rapists and venomous politicians through the meat grinder doesn't only satisfy. _

_City so vile._

_They'll want my help; I'll only walk on them._

_Their nothing but asphalt to me._

- - -

Jamie was going to die, if she didn't get out of there fast. She didn't care if all of her muscles were killing her at the moment; she could still walk and breathe and she willing to grasp onto something safe in order for her to have more moments then this one. She was desperate for water and some medication to make the pain go away.

She lived all alone so no one was looking for her. And it seemed on horrible coincidence, she had a day off of work so there wouldn't be any phone calls. She was a total idiot walking home alone at night. Sure, she did it many times before…but she should have expected something like this sooner or later.

_Jamie you naïve ditz. Why did you do this to yourself? No, the vigilante left you here to die, blame him. No…he saved you from a couple of punks,_ She dragged her finger nails over her scalp, feeling a small lump down the trail and on the back of her head, _He was still dangerous. Sure he obviously cared enough to save me. But, no one like that should be free to walk the streets. He basically threw me from a quick death to a slow one…_

She knew that was a lie. She could have been raped, or just brutally murdered. Or both. The masked man had saved her life and just ran off to save more lives. God, she really shouldn't be thinking so hard or she may as well put herself into a coma. She rubbed the bump dismissively; it honestly wasn't the worse injury she acquired last night.

_I could write a story on him. I could write an article on the encounter and see if someone will do something about this. _She bit her lip and knew it was a mistake as the cut in her lip split once again, making the pain as fresh as the time she got it. She ignored the pain as best she could, rotating her arms instead to see if she had any fractures running about.

_Damn, what was his name? I recognize him from wanted signs all over Manhattan. But, he had a name….ah my head hurts. _

She sighed deeply and leaned back to crack her spine a bit, releasing air from the bones. A glimpse of something shiny, and she could see a large round mirror against the wall; sure it was cracked through the middle but still useful. She took one big raspy breath and stood up straight on her feet. Then, she began her horrific attempt at walking towards the mirror, more of a limp then a walk, and was proud at her lack of vomiting. She held herself up against the peeled dry wall.

She rubbed her hand softly against the glass in a spherical motion, removing the padding of dust and grime, only to reveal a horrible face. Her lips were cracked and peeling from the cut. Her brown hair was mangled and matted in some blood, and was infinitely knotted. Her eyes were evidently bashed to a sunken indigo and gray. She sucked in a breath, surprised by this disgusting image. She couldn't even recognize herself. Who was she?

She touched her face, taking in the broken nose and the trail of dried blood from her nostrils to the tip of her chin. Some stray splatters on her tattered shirt. Those bastards really hurt her. She thought it was bad before, but now…oh god now…it was unbelievable. Her eyes began to burn now. She looked as if she were pulled right out of a horror movie. She tried to hold back her tears, but she hiccupped. Something she did when she cried. She could remember the mugger's faces just by a little bit, maybe she could describe them to the FBI and get a drawing. And just maybe… they'll find the masked guy too. But it's been a while and they were never able to catch him before.

_We live in such a sick world_. She broke down into tears, her body shaking and trembling.

_I need to get out of here!_

She gathered herself up, took a few calming breaths and limped as quickly as she could to the front door.

- - -

Rorschach's Journal

_Rain is flooding the streets, washing out the rats._

_Putting out fire._

_Pissing off political pedestrians on their way home. Home?_

_They don't know._

_Rain water is cleaning off all the blood._

_They don't notice._

_Rain is moving all the unwanted sewage and scum._

_They don't realize._

_Weather is showering its pity._

_The sky's just spitting on us._

_Polishing off the garbage and bloated bodies._

_Either way, the place is going to stay dirty, and yellow like an infectious disease._

_No matter how long it rains, and how many of the cities deformities become visible..._

_Blind._

_- - -_

Jamie limped further, her entire body aching and her bare feet scraping against rough ground. She was of course between two apartments in a cramped space with a large green dumpster. She was glad her nose wasn't working properly, the filth devouring the place must smell worse then it looks.

She needed to find someone and someone sane soon. She needed medical attention, she was sure of it. She was searching for civilization. The ground beneath her feet was crumbling, and she sensed herself getting perilously close to a meltdown. She was done for, wasn't she? Damn, she was craving a warm bath in some love scented beads right now.

_Almost there. I'm almost to the street._

She limped on, holding the wall with her blistered hands. If God were only to send down an angel. She smiled weakly, her feet coming on smooth sidewalk, and her vision narrowing in on cars and people. They were walking down the streets, not even noticing her battered form until someone shrieked and pointed right at her.

"Someone help!" The lady was probably in her mid-forties and she was absolutely petrified of what she was seeing. She ran to Jamie in her high heels and tight dress and helped her up by her arms. Jamie winced and grabbed a hold of the woman's shoulders. Some men stopped walking and ran to her, touching her arms and trying to help her farther out of the alley. The lady brushed her hands through Jamie's hair and tried to sooth her like she was a toddler that slipped and fell.

_Thanks for sending down this angel._

_- - - _

Rorschach was wide awake after five hours of sleep, his latex mask happily on his face again as well as the fedora on his head. He was tunneling through some street lights, ignoring the unwelcome faces and the accusing glares and the shuffling feet. His coat was pulled tight, the collar popped up behind his head. He was well used to the short sleep, immune to drowsiness on the job.

He was headed to the very underbelly of the city, ready to break some bones if that was what it was going to take to get some real answers on Martin Bannister. If on his way he were to run into some animals, he'd put them down. He was making time.

He entered a small club half way down the road, ignoring the flirtatious smiles and wiggling fingers of the women in front of the doors. Some tried to grab his coat, but he just flicked them off like bothersome insects. If they were to really touch him, he may as well stomp on them like _extremely _bothersome insects. He was trying to find a real threat inside, to see if the irremovable masks on the men near the bar would crack and give off some answers.

_Crack them myself._

* * *

_SirenRiya: You've been such a great help in the development of this. Thank you for the creative critism. I'll be sure to lay off the cursing, I got carried away. Hee hee. _

_DrGirlfriend: I'm glad you are giving this fanfic a chance. Not many people are. Ehem, high five on dissing twilight. All is good. _

_You Mother: Sorry you feel that way. _

_Saint Dezzie: I personally enjoy OC stories because it in fact makes the fan fiction both unique and personal to the writer. _

_Frolin el-vasper: Keep reading and you sure will see. Xoxo :]_

_Artemis J. Halk: I'm glad you liked it, and I'm looking forward to more reviews from you seeing as happy comments are much of an encouragement towards my writing. _

_Nellodee: You're amazing:] your review has been a great help and I'll be sure to keep it in mind in farther chapters._

_XxCheshiregrinxX: I'll be sure too 3 And I hope you enjoy this chapter._

_Evie: yeah Coralberry does, but I was being a ditz in typing it since I was rushing for time. I'll be sure to fix it soon :] I'll pick something more realistic, no problem._

_Ber1719: I'm really glad you liked it and I hope you enjoy this chapter. ^__^_

_E.A Grim: I personally love the graphic novel over the Movie, but the movie was still good. I'll be sure to fix the glitches in my writing lol. And it's alright; I don't mind the "disrespectful comments". They don't realize this fan fiction is more of a learning experience in my writing and creative critism is what I'm looking for and not insults. Much love, Laurentine._


	4. Gathering some Answers

_Authors Note: I'm trying to get more in depth with my OC, considering the emails I'm receiving on how Mary-sue she is. I'm sorry to those who feel that way, but I honestly don't see how you can say Jamie's a "Mary-sue". And to the hardcore Rorschach fans out there, Sorry If I mess up anything on his dialogue. I'm trying to put myself in his shoes as best as possible. But, I think I've cleaned up some of the mess I pulled off in the first chaps of the story and the plot might be leading into something interesting._

* * *

"Who left you behind, Ms. Owen?" A detective had a small notebook at hand; while a doctor was working on bandaging Jamie's. She winced and clenched her teeth tightly together as he held pressure against her palms.

"He didn't leave me behind," She corrected the man with a hint of pain tracing her voice, and her lips pursing, "He brought me to shelter."

_Pretty crappy shelter, if I say so myself._

The detective scribbled some notes down with a black pen and sat up straight in the fold-out chair, brought up against the bed. He took his hat off, revealing some black and gray curls and a bald spot. He had a hint of curiosity playing on his face; he scratched his mustache.

"Who is _he_?" He asked. Jamie turned her hand over with the bandaging and watched the white strips cover her palms like she were going through mummification. She looked at the detective.

"He was the masked man…the one with the ink blot face and the large reputation." She made it sound like a joke, even though this was definitely not a laughing matter. The detective sucked a breath in through his teeth. Jamie expected his reaction though, and kept a straight face.

"Rorschach." He muttered.

_Aha, that was what his name was._

"Yes, Rorschach." She replied softly.

_The look on his face gives off the truth. It implies, Rorschach isn't going to be put into custody any time soon._

She shuddered at the thought. The man might be doing this whole 'Slaughter a mugger, save a girl' thing for the right reasons but he was a killer. No one deserves a death so brutal. Okay, maybe those bastards did, but Rorschach wasn't her "Hero" in the matter. He did something half-heroic. But he did what he did through the eyes of the villain.

_Who is he? Better yet, what is he?_

"I'm safe now detective. You don't need to pursue the case."

_What was there to pursue? The vicious jerks were smashed flat and Rorschach is a hard man to find or catch. And, if someone were to run into him, there was no way he'd be caught. It seemed impossible. _

"Did he kill them?"

"Of course."

"Of course…" The man looked like he needed a cigar, and stat.

"Well, seeing the condition you're in, we need to find this guy now…"

"I know I'm not the only one whose been put into this condition, detective. I don't want to sound rude or anything…but if you couldn't catch him before I don't think you'll catch him now." Jamie winced again as the doctor got a vial of alcohol and was grabbing some cotton swabs out of a cylinder glass.

"We try, believe me we do. But the guy can turn a hairspray canister and a couple of rubber bands into something lethal. It's not that simple. But maybe I can finally persuade some of the FBI to look into this. The men are basically scared shitless." The detective rubbed the sweat off his brow.

_Maybe a front page article will put those boys into work. I'm going to have to beg for the front-page though…and the story better be good._

"Well, good luck I suppose…before it gets worse." She couldn't see it getting worse. Rorschach my as well have been the worst of the worst. He was a madman but the only thing really on Jamie's mind was his story.

_Pfft, like the guy will sit down and let me interview him. He'll either snap the mic or my neck._

She had this urge to write an article on him, and needed to go straight to her vintage type writer. Jesus, her hands were pretty sore though. She'd need to wait about a week or maybe even two before she could type again without flaking away the remains of her skin.

The Doctor pat at her fingers with the cotton; the alcohol burning like she was flattening her hand on a dozen of needles. She sucked it up. She already had a night of fear and a morning of sobbing. What was a little bit of alcohol dipped in cotton going to do? Nothing but clean out all the bacteria eating at her hands like termites to wood. Now when she gets a paper cut, she's sure as hell not going to complain about it. She'd trade a hundred paper cuts over this. 2oo, maybe 300.

"Ms. Owen, I'll notify you when we get something on the case. Also, call me when you may have anything to say." The detective handed her a plastic card with a grainy image of him with his balding head, and his name: Jack Carson. She nodded; he tilted his hat with the flick of the wrist after positioning on his head again, then left. The doctor smiled.

"You're that reporter and Article writer for the Times am I right?" He asked with a half smirk on his face. Jamie just bobbed her head, yes. She watched the man wrap bandages around her fingers, circling each and every scratched knuckle carefully.

"I predict an interesting article soon…" He tugged at the cloth.

_Me too, Doc._

- - -

The man yelped, fear rising in his belly and sweat beading his forehead. Rorschach held him by his throat, his gloved fingers digging into the bulging artery in his neck.

"Talk before broken neck." He spoke through gritted teeth. He imagined the mans neck already in splinters all over the colourful tiles at his two feet. The people around them were too frightened, too selfish to help one of their kind out. Women screamed and backed themselves out of the club in their mini skirts and flimsy tops. Stiletto heels clattered in unison all over the floor.

_Expected. Hiding answers._

"I don't know what you mean! I didn't do anythi-. " Rorschach dug into his circulation with no effort.

"Hey buddy, leave the man alone. We don't want trouble." A tough guy, Rorschach assumed, came shuffling through the people with a pack of Neanderthals at his back. He looked at them, the ink warping about on his face. The 'Tough guy' took one evacuating step backwards. Okay, not so tough.

Rorschach loosened his grip on the mutt he was choking to death and tightened his jaw under the latex.

"Answers on Martin Bannister." He spoke through a cold whisper, though in his head he could see the words underlined and in bold.

"Oh, tha-that Martin guy. I haven't talked to him for a while." The whelp stuttered.

"Not an answer." Rorschach shoved him against the wall and with one final twist of his fingers and arm, the mans body went limp and his neck made a horrendous snap like a stepping of twigs. Then, he turned his body around by his heel and stormed towards the 'no-so-tough-guy' and basically grabbed the man by the cuffs of his shirt and yanked him across the floor like he was bowling. No pins dropped but a few of the mans back-up went flying to the floor, resembling rubble by the end of it.

_Men like this, Men who buy women don't breathe. _

Rorschach lifted him up by his collar again.

"Answers." He repeated in his same old monotone voice.

"I don't know either man. Please don't kill me. Uh-Colby. Colby did it. He did it." The man's tan face paled to a solid white. He was looking over Rorschach's right shoulder. Rorschach stiffened, and dropped the man, his body shaking all over.

_Answers._

He turned around to see a horrified blonde, yelling profanity in all directions as he scrambled for the exit.

_Colby._

Rorschach didn't wait. He snapped the other mans ankle, waiting until there was a satisfying crunch, then ran for it. He rushed through the crowd for the quick coward, disgusting faces blurring at his sides, loud gasps and shouting heard all around. He pulled out his switchblade from his coat pocket then threw it, the blade swishing into a blur before striking the man near the spine. Colby shuffled forward, tripping over his own feet.

The crowd screamed and scattered in all directions like the bugs they were.

Colby screamed like an infant, turning himself over and trying to get back to his feet as quick as possible. He wasn't quick enough. Rorschach had him by the hair, tugging at the blonde tendrils like it were a collar and didn't mind pulling out some of it in chunks as he dragged him across the dance floor. Still, no one intervened. They all knew who he was and they didn't want to be a part of this predicament if it meant their lives were at stake.

"Tell me where he is." Rorschach growled violently, ripping at the mans scalp. Colby screamed, his hands going up to Rorschach's to try to remove the strong hold. He was too weak, Rorschach was too strong.

_Answers. All I want are answers. If none, more bloodshed. The party's over._

"Martin Bannister," Colby shrieked like a cat was getting its appendages removed. "He came to me a few nights ago. Drunk; unstable as hellfire. He said he was getting bored with his life that he's been having these dreams." Rorschach tugged harder, almost tearing the guy's skull like it was threaded together.

_Don't want to hear these pathetic dreams. Don't want to get in the mind of a filthy murderer._

"Better Answers." He dragged him across the floor a few more feet.

"The last time I heard from him he was at the old abandoned factory in mid Brooklyn. He was receiving some big profit."

_Know the place. Good._

He dropped Colby's head and let it break beneath his feet. More screams. Half a minute and he was already out the door.

_Used feet alot._


	5. Knock, next time

_Authors note: Wow you guys, your reviews mean a lot. I've been going through the graphic novel a couple of times and skimming and studying some pages on Watchmen, particularly on Rorschach … and I think I've gotten a better feel on his character. But it's up to you guys to see if I've improved at all. Be sure to read my chapter updates as often as possible. To think this fanfic was originally going to only be 4 parts. Oh, and keep up with the creative critism. It sure is helping :D_

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"Dad, I'm absolutely fine." Jamie pulled the type writer from her father's hands, her cracked lips in a tight line and her bruised eyes narrowing into slits. The man was about in his mid 50's, his hair black with gray strays along his sideburns. He looked pretty good for his age, some laugh lines around his mouth and maybe a few deep crinkles beneath the eyes, but the man was healthy. Of course he wasn't Jamie's real father; her real father passed away when she was 9 years old from a car accident, and her mother eventually found another man to love and to love her. He seemed like a real father anyway. And, her mother died 10 years later from cancer, and he was all she had.

_God, I love the old Bastard. He might be the hair with the split end, but he can be the conditioner that helps me untangle myself from stupid situations. _

"Have you seen yourself Jam? There's nothing fine about your condition." He pulled the typewriter out of her hands again and tucked it into a kitchen cabinet.

_There isn't a lock genius._

Jamie sighed.

"I know but I have a great story."

"I'm sure you do."

"No really."

"You also have a couple of great big puffy eyes."

"Dad…" She always knew him to be stubborn and she was never the one to change his mind. It was his way or the high way. But she wanted to tell him everything. That maybe she lied to Detective Jack Carson on the men that attacked her; she wasn't actually sure they were dead. But, she just had this hunch. At the time, all she could hear were grotesque smashing sounds and yells and a retreating of feet. No way in hell were they alive.

"Lay in bed." Her father pointed to the wall, her bedroom just beyond the flower-print carved door. Her father didn't actually live with her, no one did. She was alone, and she liked it that way. But the doctor called in and informed him on the situation like she were in school again and she had been sent to the nurses office. It was actually kind of strange…she hadn't really talked to him in a while and he stopped working a year ago for an early retirement. Well, he got fired…

"Dad, I'm really surprised you came over at all." She was trying to change the subject. She wasn't going to be _sent_ to her room.

"Why would you be surprised?" He helped himself to a glass of water and gulped it down greedily; water obviously something he's been lacking in his system for a while. The old guy bent his neck to the left and let it crack.

"You never come over."

"I've been busy."

_Busy with what? Golfing or something?_

"Busy with what?" She asked it out loud. He poured another glass of water and downed it as quick as the last glass.

"Stuff."

"Clarification would be nice." She smiled at him, crossing her arms over her chest and beckoning for her own glass of water. Sure, she was thirsty or buying time. Jamie brushed her bronze curls over her left shoulder, the cork screws spreading across her left arm. She felt nice and clean. Her father handed her a full glass and leaned up against the small refrigerator.

"I've just been out in the big bad city, _fighting crime_."

"Oooh, so you're a super hero now eh?" Jamie grinned, but he didn't. She sipped her water.

"Just hanging with friends and stuff."

"So you're not going to show me your super hero gear? No tights? Leotard? No fancy shmancy cape?" The smile stayed plastered to her face.

"Honestly, you're a true comedian. But, I've got to go…I'm visiting Vernie and Jace at the Spinners Bar. The place is up for sale, so this will probably be a last hurrah." He planted a quick kiss on her forehead and backed himself out of the kitchen with a half smile. She waved good-bye.

"I'll try to keep my hands off the type writer."

_I'm such a liar._

"Good, and go to bed. You could use a few hours of relaxation."

"No kidding."

She really was going to miss her father. He always took care of her, even though he was mostly absent; he still seemed to be there when she needed him the most. He was Martin Bannister after all.

- - -

Rorschach's Journal

_I didn't find the man. He seems almost invisible; untraceable. He could already be dead, buried under the bones._

_I'm running out of thugs._

_Running out of answers._

_What if I don't find him?_

_The Earth those rabid bloodsuckers are walking across is wanting to be put out of its misery._

_Chaos rates are going up, human familiarity is scampering down farther into the gutters. _

_How many threats are going to be splurged, how much blood will be spilt until the atrocities of this blistering planet have come to zero dominance? _

_Questions._

_There's never an answer. _

_Animal heads in alley this afternoon, tired._

_Same thing. Over and Over again. Same old thing. _

_This city is afraid of me._

_Said this before._

_I wander dragging streets, smoke and chemicals erupting from every earth follicle. _

_Whores never give up. They reach, don't succeed in grabbing._

_They spit, furious of the rejection like a puppy didn't get its kibble. _

_The end is nigh. _

_I need to speak to Daniel._

_- - -_

Rorschach sat in Daniel's kitchen, his mask pulled up halfway to reveal his mouth and nose, and a spoon and can of beans at hand. He shoveled it in his mouth, honestly hungry. He stared at the clock on the wall, watching it tick and tock with its crooked hands. Suprisingly it was silent. Except for the chewing of food and the ticking of the clock, the inside of Daniels house was almost peaceful. Daniel was also The Nite owl.

"Rorschach?" Daniel was a good guesser; used to Rorschachs constant break in's. He's had to renovate the front door many times before, paying a fee at large cost. Daniel never bothered changing the locks. Rorschach didn't use locks, he used his feet against the door knob with sudden strength, blasting the wood away like a karate kid. But if anything, Rorschach used a window this time. The window wasn't unlocked, but he still used a window...

"In here." Rorschach took another bite of the pork and beans can and looked up to see Dan's baffled face. The man straightened his glasses on the bridge of his nose and cleared his throat.

" I didn't know you were visiting..."

"Didn't know I was visiting either." Rorschach's voice came out gruff; nothing new.

_Might spend the night. Theres a comfortable couch._

"Splendid." Daniel almost scowled, but composed himself and pulled a seat out for himself and sat across the table from Rorschach. Daniel was only capable of a small smile,a smile that didn't reach his eyes in the slightest.

The men were friends. Almost friends anyway. Rorschach's constant break in's were only something he did because he was lonely. He never showed it, he hid all emotion under his mask; he was lonely, period. Daniels place was probably the only place he bothered _visiting_ anymore. He was the only man that listened to the monotone babble escaping his lips, and the only man that tolerated his existence through _The Watchmen. _

"So, why are you here?" Daniel leaned back a bit and raised an eyebrow questionably.

"A little girl was murdered Dan," Rorschach took another bite then placed the can on the table with the spoon, "And I know who did it." He pulled his mask down and got up out of the chair. Daniel was raising both of his eyebrows now.

_Thinking I've gone soft. Hmph._

"Well,okay," Dan straightened up and was smiling now, except the smile wasn't really the happy type, just the surprised type, " So your telling me you know who murdered her, but chickened out on killing him or something? Of course, I don't want you to like… slaughter the man and just put the guy in prison instead…but... _You_ not throwing the guy down eight stories is…_different_." Different as in strange.

"I can't find him."

"Oh. And, I thought you were regaining some sanity. I was wrong then." Daniel grabbed the can off the table and tossed it into the garbage bag hanging from the chair.

"I need you to find him for me, Daniel. You have deep pockets, more connections."

"You're asking me for your help?" Dan eyed Rorschach suspiciously. It wasn't like Rorschach to necessarily ask for "help" from his past partners and Rorschach knew this before Daniel did.

"Do the job." Rorschach cut in like a blade.

"Alright…alright…" Daniel raised his hands as if he were surrendering against a line of insults or threats heading his way.

_A pushover now._

Rorschach's mask, shifted in ink and he dug his hands into his coat pockets like he usually did on occasion.

"What's his name?"

"Martin Bannister."

"I don't see how you couldn't have found him on your own. You're usually excellent at this kind of…espionage."

"Crooks have gotten more crooked," Rorschach muttered under his breath, "Hiding parasite..."

"Alright I got it." Daniel folded his hands in front of him on the table and scratched some of his brown hair back. He brushed at his own coat, and got up out of the chair, the chair's legs squeaking against the floor.

"Come by tomorrow…I'll have some sort of information to pass on to you by then," Dan smiled, the smile still not reaching his irises, "Oh and please knock next time. I really can't afford anymore sudden…break-ins. If there were to be a real burglary, I'd consider it like the boy who cried wolf and be oblivious to it."

Rorschach went _Hurm._

_Guess not spending the night._

He was silent for a moment.

"Thank you."

Dan looked at him, and then nodded. It took a lot for Rorschach to say _Thank you_. A smile finally flooded into Daniels eyes before Rorschach turned to head out the door.

"Wait." Dan put his hand up to stop him. Rorschach waited for something to come after.

"Use the door in the basement."

* * *

_Berret Lee: lol I'm glad you find my work quotable. That actually warms my soul a bit. :]_

_XxCheshireGrinxX: Thank you very much for the review. Experimenting with stories is fun , and you are exactly right . xoxo_

_ArmoredSoul: Lol I'd like to see what he'd do with a toilet plunger. Hmm....tempting for a one-shot. :]_

_MK08: Thanks for the review. :D I'll be sure to keep up the brutality lol. I actually had a fun time writing that chapter, and I'm glad you enjoyed it as much as I did._

_ber1719: I know, honestly. Wheres the mary-sue? :] Well, I hope you enjoyed this chapter then. And I look forward to see what else you have to say. Keep checking in for updates!_

_Artemis J. Halk: lol I'll be sure to check out the litmus test. ( wow...a -3) maybe the test isn't really THAT accurate? Anyhow, thank you for the review and I hope you enjoy this chapter._

_Froline el-vasper: You my friend, are the best. I really appreciate all the things you have to say on Chapter 4 and that your replies to the author note are a big help. hell yeah, Rorschach is a hard person to get into character with. But, I'm trying my very best and so far this has been a major learning experience. And yes...perhaps Doug Roth will be in this. And many other characters ~_^ some in which...might not exactly be from the Watchmen Graphic Novel. But, I'm working my way up the latter by adding new characters piece by piece. _


	6. The Sick Joke

_Authors note: I would have posted this chapter sooner if I knew that the site wasn't going to work and not let me upload my documents. It was either the actual site or my own computer. Anyways, since that happened I had more time to go over the chapter and even add a couple more paragraphs in between for my own entertainment. This particular chapter kind of slows down the plot in the beginning but then enables some more Drama (heh-heh). So I apologize if this particular chapter is too slow or too boring for your reading pleasure. BUT, there is some action my friends. So don't hesitate, and be sure to strike down some creative critic remarks. _

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"Absolute power corrupts absolutely." Rorschach muttered, his feet planted on the rough surface of the building; his knees bent and hands in leather dangling at his sides. Cars were moving below at a snails pace as he waited for the clock; 20 feet away from where he was crouching, through an apartment window; to hit 12:00.

"Come by tomorrow" Dan didn't specify when tomorrow. So Rorschach decided tomorrow on the dot. The dial moved another inch but it needed to just hit six more inches. Just six minutes.

Then maybe he'd wait until six more just for good measure, then another six so he doesn't piss off Dan, and another six minutes to relax.

Twenty four minutes.

No…now twenty three.

_Tick, tock, tick, tock._

The world beneath him just shifted and bubbled from every wretched gutter and open faucet. The Boogeyman may as well be hidden under the streets, ready to feed on any car while the deranging men or women are too blind or too numb to anticipate.

Twenty two.

If God were really up there, he'd guide the blind already.

_A swamp, a place for dirty creatures that are born into filthy habitat. _

Rorschach started walking. Only a four minute walk until Daniels place; he didn't walk far. The sky was pitch black that night, starless and absolutely menacing. It was almost a large bruise just hovering over those with bruises. If the sky were to fall…let whatever angels exist fall with it.

Rorschach passed a fire hydrant and a couple of parked cars that were massacred in graffiti and vulgar. He could just about picture the reactions of those who actually owned the cars; stunned and up-ragingly pissed. They were _once _nice cars too but the Gran Torino had some nasty key marks up and down the hood.

_Fiends._

He watched the street light flicker on and off due to the cheap bulb and marched on down the sidewalk. It felt like 12:00, he slowed down.

Just another six minutes passed and he was impatient, and it was of true fact that he was getting impatient with himself. He quickened his footfalls on the hard cement and was just about to break into Dan's house-

"_Please knock next time."_

"Right…" He scoffed, and knocked on the door diligently. He knocked once, and then he knocked twice, waited, and then knocked three times. He could vaguely hear the irritated groan through the door and may as well have been amused if not strictly serious at the same time.

Dan opened the door, in a robe and slippers, his hair in minor disarray. He straightened his glasses and said "What?" with the most aggravated of voices.

"It's _tomorrow_."

"It's dark out, Rorschach. I need some damn slee-"

"Give me the information, then sleep." Rorschach was being persistent with this whether Daniel liked it or not.

"You're lucky, really damn lucky that I got right to it when you left," Dan opened the door a tad more and let Rorschach walk in "At least you knocked."

"At least." Rorschach walked in and grabbed a seat on the couch.

Daniel always found a time to be a gentleman.

"Want anything to drink?"

"No."

"Alright then."

Daniel eyed Rorschach with skepticism. The man doubted his intentions with the bits of information he was going to hand over, Rorschach figured this.

"You know, I acquired a large amount of addresses and I have to say, you're really lucky that this Martin Bannister is one-of-a-kind in this city." Daniel ruffled through a kitchen drawer, pulling out some papers and a blue pen. Rorschach watched him expectantly; his patience wearing thin.

"Only one of him?" He asked rhetorically but Dan nodded.

"Only one of him." Dan replied. He dropped the notepad on the coffee table in front of Rorschach and pointed a finger at it.

"I found three addresses, one at an office downtown, and another on a closed down construction site, and another in mid-Manhattan; there's an address." Rorschach just nodded at Dan and reached out for the notepad.

"Ehem." Dan snatched the notepad off the coffee table and Rorschach shot up off the couch, the inkblots on his mask shifting into something like…a frown.

"Hand It over, Daniel." He spoke matter-of-factly. But Dan refused, grabbing the pen off the coffee table and scribbling some notes on the notepad. Rorschach's hand, that he did not realize was raised, went down. Curiosity besieged him.

"I'm just jotting down some time quotas. The Office is completely empty right now, you may as well check in the morning. And, the best place to find the guy is at the apartment."

Rorschach nodded.

_Thank you._ He didn't want to say it again and out loud.

"Whatever your …well, whatever this man did just make sure you're hunting him down for a... reason."

"There is a reason." Rorschach spoke dryly, removing the latex from over his mouth and showing grim lips with some red peach fuzz around the jaw.

"Okay let me rephrase that. I hope you're hunting him down for the…_right_ reason." Rorschach didn't take these words into offence but retaliated anyways.

"I've never used a wrong reason."

Daniel cleared his throat and wiped at the lenses of his glasses. A small finger print was left behind, and he wiped at that too but with the sleeve of his robe. The man hated getting on Rorschach's bad side, hell…he hated getting on his good side because in all guarantee there would be an insult along the line.

Some car alarms went off outside.

"You know what I mean. Just-"

"'Got to go. Pricks are digging out a car."

Daniel sighed.

_Talk to you later, Dan._

Rorschach grabbed the notepad from Dan's hands and stuffed it into one of his coat pockets, the same one with his leather bound journal.

"Tell Laurie I say hi."

_No, don't. Pointless._

The look on Daniel's face meant that he was thinking the same thing.

"Sure, man."

- - -

Jamie cracked her knuckles in satisfactory then went on her quest to finish the article she was dying to get published.

_The streets were black in Manhattan, the very essence built for criminals to come out at night. I was coming home from work, exhausted, entirely set for a leap into bed; a mug of hot cocoa laced in my fingers. I never before really had trouble with thugs, I always got home at a great time with no trouble. Sure, must have been my luck. But-_

She stopped typing and stared distantly at the window. She always felt as if someone was over her shoulder, staring at her while she brushed her fingers across the typewriter keys. But, it was just her running imagination pestering at her; keeping her on her toes even though she knew she was safe in her home.

_Yeah, and I thought it was safe to walk home too._

She looked at the clock and sucked in a breath. It was 12:42 in the morning. If her dad were to see her now, his face would be boiling hot, just like the good old days when she got home on her own time instead of on her parent's given curfew. She was such a spoiled little brat, getting things her way even if it meant going to a senior house party when she was a freshman and a total virgin to drugs and alcohol. No, she wasn't anymore. But it didn't mean she was going to do drugs or alcohol ever again. But she did smoke.

The doctors never told her she couldn't smoke. She got up out of the chair slowly, not wanting to injure herself further and pulled out a cigarette from the other side of the desk in an oak drawer. A crimson lighter sat lazily beside some stacked papers, she grabbed it and clicked the button. The flame flickered on like a dancing faerie being released from a charred purgatory. She tucked the cigarette between her lips, lit it, and then sucked in a breath.

_This is release. Damn, I haven't had a cigarette in long while._

Smoke escaped her lips in one gush and she coughed.

_A very long time._

She sighed. She always told herself she was going to quit, but she always knew she was lying to herself. She'd probably not quit even if she signed a waver to herself. Her lips cracked into a smile. She then sat herself back down and stared at the typewriter with the blankest of expressions. She had so many things to write and she was trying to put down a deadline for herself.

_But as the clock stroke 9:30, I could feel a presence. In the back of my mind I could remember saying 'Don't turn around, don't slow down, and don't say a word'. Its easy thinking it then doing it. I already had a man turning me around, making me stop in my tracks, and have his partner help beat screams out of me. This was all in the eyes of a masked Vigilante, the one the entire city was discussing in low whispers. Rorschach-_

A scatter of bottles was heard outside of the building and Jamie flinched. It could have been a couple of cats digging through the garbage or some restless teenagers, ready to get down and dirty right there between the buildings. The thought of two squealing lovers in the dark made her giggle to herself, her face meeting palm. But a loud 'bang!' came shortly after and Jamie turned sharply in her seat. The smile was cleaned right off her face and she had to take a really deep breath to stop from shaking.

_It better not be a _murderous_ cat seeking out revenge or something…_

She got out of the seat, the chairs legs creaking a bit at the pressure. She smashed out her cigarette in the ash tray and walked towards the front door, hugging her arms around her shoulders and pressing her cotton robe to her chest. Then there was absolute silence. Maybe not absolute, her heart beat could easily be heard hammering through her ribcage and her breathing wasn't exactly quiet. Her bare feet made no sound against the hardwood floors and yet she had this horrid feeling of being heard. Several thoughts poured into the cracks of her mind at once; a baseball bat is in the closet, a couple of boxes of bullets but no gun are in the kitchen, no help there. Her teeth tightened and she peeked out the front window. Only a narrowing entrance out to the street and some scattered newspaper articles lay way. No horny kids or villainous kittens to be seen.

She wanted to smack herself for being so imaginative. Maybe she did need some sleep, she was probably outrageously tired but in denial. She also couldn't help but notice that the street lamp just up ahead wasn't even working; she should call someone to get that fixed. For now, she needed to take some anti-crazy medication, but she didn't come prepared. Her eyes moved but not her head, an inch to the clock again, 12:56 almost 1:00 in the morning.

_You really are crazy, Jamie. _

She looked back to the window and her entire body broke down, all her muscles tightening and her mouth gaped open. A white bag of a mask, shifting black ink, and a fedora came into view. But to sudden and sickening realization, it was a reflection. She spun around to see Rorschach.

She screamed.

- - -

Rorschach moved quickly, he shot his body forward and grabbed the woman by the neck and shoved her against the drywall. It stopped her from screaming but it didn't stop her from crying. Damn it, the only reason why he was wringing her neck right now was to keep her voice down. She was melting under his hands; sure as hell he was lucky he had on some leather gloves. Though the woman looked like she was beaten raw recently and probably wasn't looking her best or at her full self, she still looked familiar. It was so easy climbing through the bedroom window, and easier to put her attention on the front door by dropping empty bottles.

"What do you want from me?" She cried out this time, her voice breaking under his firm grip.

_Familiar, very familiar._

This was gnawing at his gut, but he wasn't feeling sorry for her. She may as well have been a slut he scared off previously.

"You know Martin Bannister?" He exclaimed, and her eyes widened in fear or surprised acknowledgment.

"Excuse me?" She whispered.

"Martin Bannister." Rorschach tightened his grip, his fingers just below her earlobes. She choked on her own saliva for a second, and tried pulling at his hands.

"Yes I know who he is!" She attempted a scream, but her voice just crashed and burned, "What do you want from him?!"

"Just tell me where he is." Rorschach shouted his voice angry. All he wanted was the damn location of this child slaughterer. He had enough of stalled time and useless whimpers.

_His location, All I want is his location._

"No, you just tell me what you want from him!" She was stubborn, high-strung. He pulled out a knife and put it to her throat, not really sure if he was going to use it or not but it was up to her to decide.

_Talk through mouth; before you talk through your throat._

He gritted his teeth, the black spots along his masked face, warping and curdling inwards into a glare.

"What did he do?" She cried, her eyes bubbling with salt water. This didn't bend Rorschach into feeling bad for her; not one bit.

"Murdered a young girl. Thought he'd get away."

"What, what do you mean-"

"Left her mangled."

"No, he wouldn't do that. I know my father, he wouldn't do this to her."

"Where is he?"

_The man's a father? Sick joke. That man is a father of a girl. Even more of a sick joke._

* * *

_To all of those who reviewed for the last chapter: Yes, you got to love a plot twist and I'm glad you guys liked it. :]_

_I appreciate everyone who has been reviewing and backing me up in my writing and I look forward to seeing what you have to say all the time._

_Oh, and if you noticed my change in name, it's because I decided to just stick with my "real" name. _

_Much love, _

_Lauren N. Shelton._


	7. AUTHOR NOTE

I am Sorry to say that I will probably not get around to this story in the near future. I am leading into a year without an update, and I feel terrible about it but I have lost all focus on this story. However, I am researching for other fanfics in the future so I am just uninspired not dead.


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